In the undulating purple mists of a parallel step realm to Earth lies the kingdom of Shadowrealm. It's noble leaders, the royal House of O’ Oasis, are pledged to protect the earth and its inhabitants.

The night of the crimson moon, Tsar Fredrick O’Oasis is brutally murdered. Shadowrealm lost their Tsar, but his son Alexsander assumes the throne as the Tsar and rightful ruler. Enraged, his younger brother Prince Omar O’Oasis makes a pact with the Dark Amy forces led by the notorious Prime Vice Dark. He has promised his allies and minions the demon born Chupalmas the spoils of the Earthrealm.

Tsar Alexander’s mission is clear, and he travels to Earth to turn away the murderous tide of the invaders, and in the process encounters the one woman on earth destined to bring him to his knees and claim his soul: Nicolette. Beautiful, educated and desperate to solve the mystery surrounding the murderous rampage, she is unaware of having the dangerous target on her back or that she possesses the magic to fight the Dark Forces that seek to enslave her.

A tug of war ensues: Nicolette refuses to recognize her connection with Tsar Alexander, the Chupalmas are closing in, and time is running out.

At the end of the corridor outside, two immense golden moons shine their beams into the torch lit corridor. The Tsar’s private chambers are located at the end of the long corridor. The sound of night birds calls, along with the chant of crickets, serenade him into a deep sleep. The guard sits outside Tsar Frederic’s bedroom door. His head bobs as he nods off.
The silent figure, the Dark Minion Pox, keeps to the shadows that appear along the opposite wall, and pays rapt attention to the guard. When he’s satisfied that the guard is asleep, he quickly reaches out a long, curved talon, and slits his throat. There’s a muffled thud as the guard’s body hits the floor, a momentary gurgling sound, and then silence. Even the crickets stop chirping.
The well-oiled door to the Tsar’s chambers opens silently inward. There’re two huge candles on high wrought iron standing along the sides of the Tsar’s bed. The Dark Prime quickly draws the energy from them, causing the flames to flicker, and then go out.
Some things are best done in the dark. Murder is one of them.
The dark prime creature walks stealthily into the room and looks down at the handsome sleeping monarch. Frederick is still a regal and handsome figure. His beard and hair are flecked with silver, his eyes are closed, and he breathes the deep satisfying sleep of Tsars.
The Dark Prime minion, Pox, inhales all of the oxygen out of the room at once, and Tsar Frederick awakens gasping, his hands at his throat, as he looks up into the terrible and distorted face of the creature. The creature’s eyes are black soulless holes. Its sneering, twisted lips grimace in a wicked smile. Its double rows of deadly sharp teeth shine like ivory needles in the moon ray of the twin moons.
Pox takes no time to strike Tsar Frederick in his bed. He stealthily inflicts the deathly blow, to send him to his death without ever uttering a sound.
The Tsar’s death looks on the surface to be a natural one, but the Dark minion reaches down, and rips the Tsar’s night shirt open. He uses the same talon with the guard’s blood on it to carve a symbol into the Tsar’s chest.
The distinctive symbol shows the Sanskrit symbol for hell: a swastika with four dots on each quadrant. It is the symbol of the Chupalmas, and the creature smiles again as he examines his handiwork.
Tsar Frederick is dead.

In this adult fairy tale young, awkward, young Jack sells their prize cow Pearly White for magical beans to a strange man in a red bikini. Little does Jack’s mother, Lorene, know that the beans grow into a giant, magical beanstalk, high above the clouds?

Jack ascends the beanstalk to a land where a Giant Slave serves his larger Master, Jack begs Slave for food to satisfy his hunger from his long journey. But Jack finds Master hoarding treasures.

Attempting to escape the wrath of Master and Slave with the treasures, Jack encounters a handsome, engaging normal sized human man. Sam lives with others that live naturally without clothing deep in the forest. As Jack ages he becomes a handsome man, just like his father, attracting many men, including the two farmhands, Zeke and Adam.

Even though Jack has enabled the farm to prosper with the treasures he stole from Master and is met with increasing danger, he climbs the magical beanstalk again and again to find more treasures and pursue Sam.

Once upon a time, there was a poor widow named Lorene who lived on a reclusive, neglected farm with her frail son, Jack, and their dairy cow, Pearly White, a prime Guernsey. They also had several other milking cows which were Pearly White’s offspring. The poor widow raised Jack the best she knew how. They survived by selling milk at a distant farmer’s market each day to buy small amounts of food. While her handsome, masculine husband, Bill, was alive, she had been a real beauty. Bill, a strong six foot two man, had managed the crops without any help.

Bill and Lorene met at the county fair after a couple of rowdy, uncouth men made crude comments to Lorene regarding her beauty. Bill stepped in, discouraging any further catcalls. “Excuse me, Miss, are these men bothering you?” He had asked.

“I don’t appreciate what they have been saying, it’s true.” Lorene blushed at their vulgar behavior.

“Okay, you cowards, it’s time you’re on your way if you know what’s good for you.”

The men immediately fled. Bill’s tall stature, muscular build, and commanding baritone voice left no room for argument.

“How can I repay you?” Lorene smiled at Bill. “May I offer you one of my pies?” She had entered her award-winning pies in the county competition.

“You needn’t repay me, Miss. Any gentleman would treat a beautiful young woman such as you with respect.”

Lorene not only gave him one of her blue ribbon peach pies but invited him for Sunday dinner. During their brief courtship, Bill wooed Lorene with beautiful love songs, serenading her with his smooth, baritone voice. They married that November.

They started their farm with a prize milking cow, Pearly White, and planted crops. Bill bred Pearly White over the years, her offspring providing more milk. In the evenings after they had eaten dinner, Bill would sing songs of love to his wife. Afterward they would make passionate love. Two years later, Lorene gave birth to their son, Jack.

Bill’s son brought a sparkle to his eyes. When Jack was three, he began taking him along while doing the farm chores. Jack idolized his parents drawing pictures of them. For such a young boy, he was quite talented. His parents encouraged him to pursue his art, allowing him to draw and paint whenever and wherever he desired.

Bill died when Jack was only five. He was struck by a lightning bolt during a severe thunderstorm while trying to bridal his horse and fetch Pearly White after she broke through a fence and ran off in fear. Jack remembered that day vividly. He had not feared the continuous lightning flashes, the loud booming thunder, or the rising water of the ensuing flash flood. He feared only the expression on his mother’s face when they found his father, his body singed from the heat of the lightning. His eyes were open, frozen with the undeniable pain. His mother’s face had always radiated peace and serenity, until that moment.

In this sequel to the adult fairy tale book, Jack and the Magical Beanstalk, Jack and Sam have been living happily together on Jack’s prosperous farm with Jack’s widowed mother, Lorene, and the two farmhands, Zeke and Adam.

When Sam started having nightmare concerning his father’s health, Sam became distraught and felt helpless not being able to go back to the land he was born, even though Jack attempted to find a way to climb back up high in the sky to Sam’s native land.

When Sam traded five prized bean seeds and a golden egg to the peculiar old man wearing only a red bikini underwear for five magic beans, he agreed to make it a secret and was unable to tell Jack. Adam was aware Sam was dealing with the peculiar old man and blackmailed Sam into having sex to keep his secret before Sam grew another magical beanstalk.

Before Sam could climb Sam climbed the beanstalk to help his ailing father, unaware there were two new villainous giants, Duchess Luscious Lips Loretta and Queen Buxom Bosom Belinda inhabiting the castle. Jack was left behind to save the farm after a late spring blizzard killed the crop of beans without any more prized seeds to plant.

Did Sam Save his ailing father and brothers? Did Jack figure out a way to save the farm from ruin? Did Jack follow Sam and save him from the wrath of the giants?

As a new member of the adopted family, Sam had to learn new customs. He had to adapt to his new way of life by wearing pants, shirts and shoes. As he had been accustomed in his tribe, hunting and harvesting food from the forests, he continued to gather food around the farm. Jack taught him how to farm on a larger scale, rather than the small, family garden Sam’s father had tended.

Jack learned new innovations from Sam for growing crops, such as building a pond to store water for irrigating the crops when no rain fell. One month, when they received no rain, the pond supplied water to the crops until the next rains came. Jack took Sam to market so he could know how to barter with the milk and crops in exchange for food and supplies that were needed on the farm. Although Zeke and Adam taught Sam new skills to help out on the farm, Jack made it clear that they were to keep their hands off the new handsome man.

Zeke abided by that rule.

Adam’s advances rose occasionally, but Sam soundly rejected any of his foolish fantasies.

Lorene loved Sam like another son she never was able to have.

Jack knew Sam well enough to know he was an independent man, not prone to confiding or dwelling on his worries. Jack felt comfortable with Sam’s easygoing nature and enjoyed his jovial sense of humor, especially the repartee of stories about growing up with his brothers.

But after a year, Jack detected traces of despondency Sam was hiding from him and the others. He knew very well Sam missed his father and brothers. It made Jack’s need to find a solution to take Sam back to the land he was born all the more important.

But in the spring, Jack’s responsibility to the welfare of the farm took presentence. He had a dream to diversify the kind of crops they grew. Walking through the fallow fields, he discussed his plans with Sam.

“I’m going to ask Zeke and Adam to plant most of the prized bean seeds.”

“Don’t you think that rash?” Sam questioned the large amount of seeds to be used. “Don’t we need those seeds to last for more than one season? You know the beans those seeds produce won’t grow the same beanstalks. They’re just ordinary beanstalks and don’t spread for the large distances.”

“That’s exactly my point. Those seeds won’t last forever. If we have a huge yield of beans, we’ll make more to trade with. We will be able to plant a variety of crops, next year. We’ll diversify and thrive.”

“I guess.” Sam hesitated with his approval. “It’s risky.”

“I know, but it could prove highly successful. Go get Zeke and Adam. I want to get started right away.”

Jack instructed Zeke and Adam to till the soil and ready the fields for planting.

Jack’s Magical Beanstalk & Sam’s Quandary is the story of Jack and the Magical Beanstalk seen through Jack’s partner and lover’s eyes.

The story began when Jack’s future love interest, Sam watched him flee from the evil giant Master with his bag of gold coins. When they met they were infatuated with each other. Through Jack’s escapades with Master, Sam eventually followed Jack down the magical beanstalk to live with Jack but the beanstalk had to be cut down.

Subsequently, Sam was prevented from seeing his father and brothers. When Sam discovered his father’s illness, he conspired to plant a new magical beanstalk, having to do so secretly. Adam the farmhand had his suspicions and blackmailed Sam into a sexual fling to keep the secret.

Did Sam save his father from sickness? Did Jack follow his lover when the farm faces ruin?

Once upon a time, two equally handsome young men lived on a prosperous farm. Sam and Jack were deeply in love and had devoted their lives to their relationship, their happiness, and the wellbeing of their parents, Jack’s mother, Lorene, and Sam’s father, Jason. But their widowed parents lived in different, far away worlds. Jack grew up on the farm, while Sam grew up high in a faraway land. They currently employed two loyal farmhands, Zeke and Adam, and had a prized cow, Pearly White that helped them survive through leaner times.

Sam and Jack fell in love years before when Sam lived in a land high above the clouds. In this different world, Sam lived with his father and brothers in a tribe inhabiting the forests, bordering a cobblestone road, leading to a majestic castle possessed by two giants, Master and his submissive servant, Slave. Often, Sam snuck into the castle to steal food for his family, especially when a member of his family became ill, the sickness usually Giant Fever. Although Slave gave morsels of food when Sam begged, Master delighted in feasting on humans like Sam. Sam developed his skill in running with exceptional speed to prevent being captured by the giants. Living naturally without clothes was a necessity to hastily flee them. Nudity, also enabled the people in his tribe to select their mates. It was only natural they went about their daily lives uninhibited and naked.

Sam first met Jack from a distance when Sam lurked in the background after getting food from Slave for his ailing father. Sam noticed a strange man who wore clothing, like the giants, but fleeing with Master’s bag of gold coins. Sam’s thought about this man he saw running for his life.

How strange. A man like me who wears cloths like the giants. There is something about that man I like. Where is he going? He’s definitely in a hurry to get away from Master. He must know that Master loves to eat us. That man must be adventurous to be bold enough to steal from this villain. I would like to meet him. Sam stared, and stared, and stared.

As Jack fled the pursuit of Master and Slave with the coins, he noticed Sam watching him from a distance. Their eyes locked with more interest than curiosity. Jack disappeared down through the ground, vanishing from Sam and the giants. Oh, no. Master has stopped chasing him. The man must have fallen off the ground into oblivion. That’s disappointing. I wonder where he was from. Sam thought the man had fallen off the edge of the world. So he returned to his family with food for his ailing father, thinking of the man who wore clothes. The clothed man left a deep impression in Sam’s mind, a rush of sensations breeding curiosity and desire.

Pablo Michaels disguised himself as a shy, friendly heterosexual during his adolescence, fantasizing other males. Falling in love with another man his first year in college, he followed this man to another university to maintain their platonic love, while he continued in his in studies. When he had his first sexual encounter with another man, just before turning twenty-one, he exploded into gay life with lust and rage. He attempted to live his new life naturally, seeking love, ignoring the statistics of the books he read on homosexuality in high school, and proving what he had read was wrong.

Pablo Michaels is a gay man who writes gay romantic genre fiction from a gay man’s perspective. He is driven to educate and enlighten readers with the true beauty of love between men. He has published several books over the span of the last five years. He has found a new home to publish his stories with Yellow Silk Dreams, a publisher composed of a coop of authors. He grew up in a working class family that taught him the values of hard work, regardless of the profession, and helped him acquire a diverse education. The family motto is “People can take everything away from you. But they never can take away your education.” He is legally married to his soulmate, a man he has lived with for twenty years.

Pablo Michaels was born in the story, “Raging Silence”, which is included in the book, “This Beautiful Escape”. The silence raging in Pablo Michaels was his inherit sexual orientation, suppressed in his adolescent years. Through years of struggles he finds peace in his current life with his legal husband, a partnership of 20 years.

He wrote poetry and stories since third grade. When he turned twenty-one, he moved to San Francisco to work and write, experiencing more of gay life. In the 1980's he wrote every chance he had, trying and failing miserably at publishing mainstream fiction. He published his first story, Reunion on the Trail, in 1986 in a literary magazine When the Mockingbird Sings.

After writing plays, short stories, poetry, and two novels, he began writing gay genre stories, feeling he had more knowledge and experience with gay lifestyle. Trying to publish, he went to a library seminar hosted by two published authors. Inspired by the gay writer, Scott Kemble he connected with him on the internet site for The San Francisco Bay Area Literary Arts Newsletter and Review, which published four of Pablo's short stories.

Constantly, writing since 2004, he published his first e-book, Pagan Knights of Cambria, with Life of Riley Productions in London. Soon a mainstream story, When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again Hooray, published also. In 2012 Pablo self-published his first novel, Catnip, Rosemary, Rage and Time, combining mystery and humor in a gay, erotic romance. He continues to write more episodes in his next novel, The Deer in the Forest The plot spreads over several decades, about a man's attempts to adapt to the world he lives, all with love, heartache, history and survival at no cost.

His latest article, Why Gay Men Retire to Palm Springs, was just published in the very popular SimplySxy.com online magazine. You can read the insightful article here. http://simplysxy.com/articles/2015/06/08/why-gay-men-retire-to-palm-springs/

Pablo retired from gardening and landscaping to devote his energy to write fiction. As a gay man he wishes to promote his writing gay genre fiction to help others understand the necessity for equal rights for LGBT people and comprehend that love between a man and a man, people of the same sex, is as natural as love between a man and a woman. Throughout his lifetime he has experienced the long battle of achieving acceptance. He has searched for a committed relationship with another man. He has loved his partner for twenty years. They were legally married in front of Harvey Milk's bust in the rotunda of San Francisco City Hall by a judge, in 2008. Although their marriage remained legal after the passage of Proposition 8, they continued to work to repeal DOMA and Prop. 8. Throughout his life he has attempted to live and practice peace as a process for living.

His published books include the book, Blood, Sweat and Black Leather, a gay paranormal romance, published by Yellow Silk Dreams in January 2015. Affairs of Men’s Hearts, published in May 2015 by Yellow Silk Dreams is an anthology of four stories connected by the themes of gay men seeking love with another man, from wishful thinking male to male romance to gay marriage. His latest book, Jack and the Magical Beanstalk is an adult version with a gay twist of the fairytale classic, Jack and the Beanstalk, published in December 2015 by Yellow Silk Dreams. He has rewritten his first novel, Catnip. Rosemary, Rage and Time, and its prequel, Learning to Love Again, both soon to be published. He is currently working on the sequel to Jack and the Magical Beanstalk. The working title is Climbing Another Magical Beanstalk.

Retired homicide detective Michaela McPherson and the aging Countess Dorothy Borghase team up again—this time to match wits with two serial killers stalking children, women and the elderly.
When Dottie Borghase's friend Camilla Rothrock collapses at a lunch gathering of old friends, the countess's only concern is to dial 911 for help. But Camilla's subsequent death has authorities buzzing about international safety and retaliation, because her son is decorated U.S. Army General Stuart Rothrock.

As other restaurant patrons in Richmond meet similar fates, Michaela and Dottie join forces with the Richmond Police and the FBI to track down the pair of heinous murderers. But in order to catch the killers, they will put their own lives and the lives of others in in serious jeopardy.What Price Must a City Pay to Keep its Citizen's Safe?

How about an excerpt:Dottie turned off the main highway and headed south to Blackstone Virginia. Madame Toulescent lived just outside of Blackstone and that's where she conducted her psychic readings. She wished away the butterflies that cramped her stomach. She had a sense that what she was going to hear wasn’t good. She wished she didn't believe in the value of psychics or the unknown but she did, and that was that. She’d seen psychic readings and prophecies come true time after time during her life. Mic wasn’t a believer at all but had grudgingly admitted psychics had helped them in a case about ten years ago.

The speedometer on her car registered over sixty miles an hour on a forty-five mile limit stretch of highway. I'd better slow down. The last thing I need is a Virginia state trooper on my tail. She braked and her car skidded but she handled it skillfully. The Cadillac was a big, monster car but she really liked it. Since Dottie had lived in the US, she had always preferred German-made cars and previously owned multiple Mercedes Benz. Of course, when Count Borghase had been alive, they’d always driven Italian cars, mainly Ferraris. But now she was pretty much American and she loved her Caddy. There was something about the Cadillac that was so plush and so American that she bought a new one every couple of years.

She saw an old gray mule in the pasture out of the corner of her eye and saw the fence that was lying on the side. Dottie didn’t know what she’d do if they ever repaired that fence. She’d been looking at that fence on the ground for years and it was her landmark just before she turned onto Madame’s private road. She knew her turn was just up ahead. She slowed for a farmer carrying a load of hay in an old truck. He was hogging the entire road. Now where in the hell am I supposed to go? She steered her big car to the side of the road as far as she could without falling into the ditch. She cursed and held her breath as the farmer passed her. She swore the farmer missed her by less than an inch. The old codger hadn't even looked her way. She shook her head and cursed again softly. She threw her white Caddy into first gear and roared out of the ditch spewing gravel, dirt, and mud all over the road. She saw three rabbits running for their life and hoped she hadn’t interrupted their nest. Dottie drove a little further and made her left turn. She turned right on the first road and started the difficult trip along the horrible, rutted road to Madame Toulescent’s tiny home. The road was almost a mile long. Dottie's tall, thin frame bounced all over her plush leather seat and her hair fell out of her neatly arranged bun. I'm going to have to take a pain pill. All this jumping around is killing my hips. Secretly Dottie new she needed to have her hips replaced but there was no way she was willing to do that, at least not while she could walk. I wouldn't be able to help Michaela. And then, what would she do?

Madame Toulescent waved at Dottie from her front porch filled with flowers and beautiful hanging baskets of petunias and begonias. Her small white cottage was immaculate. Madame Toulescent watched her painstakingly steer her huge Cadillac down her battered road. Dottie brought the iron beast to a stop, looked in her rearview mirror and re-pinned a piece of white hair that had worked its way out of her perfect updo. Even though the Madame lived in a house that was little better than a house trailer, Dottie had been trained from birth to always look perfect when visiting. This task had become monumental at age 82. She reached for her purse and checked to make sure her Glock was nestled in its special pocket. She checked her lipstick in the mirror, pinched her lips together, cursed the fine lines around her mouth and got out of the car.

"Hello Madame Toulescent. Thank you for seeing me today on short notice." Dorothy smiled her gracious smile at the psychic, showing her beautiful white veneers, once available for a large price from the famous, dentist-to-the-stars Dr. Michael Smirkowitz.

"You are so welcome, Countess Borghase." Madame Toulescent looked around the empty fields and through the trees and gestured with her arm. "As you can see, there is no waiting line. Please come in. I've made us some tea." She paused for a moment and said, "Watch the steps. They're in need of repair," she cautioned.

In need of repair, my butt, they need to be rebuilt Dottie climbed the rickety steps dodging rusty nails and wood splinters. She grasped the loose railing and posts that held up the old front porch. The last thing she wanted to do was fall and break something. She followed Madame Toulescent into her small but neat and cozy home. There was a wonderful scent in the air and Dottie’s mouth watered.

"Please have a seat in the easy chair," the Madame offered. "I'll bring us some tea and sweet bread."

Dottie nodded and smiled her thanks as she carefully studied Madame Toulescent. She wasn't sure of her nationality. She thought she was Eastern European but she seemed very much like the French and her house had several amazing pieces of French country furniture. In years past, she had asked the Madame about her former life, but the psychic seemed unwilling to share her past. Her voice had a strange accent Dottie couldn't identify which frustrated her. Dottie had traveled the world and she knew the languages and dialects of most ethnic populations. But she couldn't figure out Madame Toulescent’s origins. That puzzled her.

Madame handed Dottie a cup of herb tea. The aroma alerted her senses and she immediately felt more awake and inspired. The tea had given her energy and awareness. She took a sip. It was delicious.

"Oh my, Madame Toulescent. Whatever is in this tea? I feel a million times better just from smelling it. You’ve got to tell me where you got it because I know Cookie would love it too," Dottie gushed as she sipped her tea.

Madame Toulescent smiled and said. "I made the tea. It's a blend of ginger, mint, lemon verbena and a few other things I grow in my herb garden. I'll send some home with you. It's sweetened with honey I collected from my bees yesterday." She smiled briefly, and her lips stretched over teeth that could benefit from a cosmetic dentist. "That's probably what you love so much."

Dottie nodded and studied the Madame. The years hadn't treated her so well. Dottie didn't know her age but her face was a mass of wrinkles that blended one into the other. Dottie guessed each wrinkle had its own story. Her skin appeared soft but deeply creased. Her jet black hair was streaked with gray and hung freely past her shoulders. She wore a simple blue shift with a silver belt and wore tennis shoes and socks. She smelled of lemon and freesia.

Dottie, as usual, smelled of Chanel #5. "It's so lovely out here, Madame. Do you ever come to town?"

Madame Toulescent shook her head. "Very rarely. My neighbor collects my groceries for me when I need them and as you know, I have a huge vegetable garden and I can and freeze most everything I need. I like it here and I like to stay with my animals - my dogs, cats, cow, mules and horses. It's quiet here and my love is nature."

Dottie nodded. She couldn't imagine staying in these four walls every single day. She supposed she didn't have the patience and gentleness of spirit that the Madame had. But that was okay. Dottie was very happy in her own way.

The two women shared a comfortable silence and continued to sip their tea until the Madame asked, "How can I help you today, Countess?" She smiled at her and said, "I can tell you have some significant things on your mind and that you are troubled."

Dottie put her teacup down and said, "Yes, I do. Have you been watching the news?" Dottie saw the woman pale under her sun-darkened skin.

Dottie held Madame’s dark eyes with her own and said, "Yes, I am. Camilla Rothrock was one of my dearest friends and I need to know who poisoned her."

Madame shifted her gaze to the floor and said, "Countess Borghase, this is a very bad business that is happening. I've had some visions and they are upsetting. It reminds me of the evil work of Hitler in Germany."

This time it was Dottie who paled, her heart beating so hard she could hardly breathe. "Oh my God, Madame. We both remember his devastation in Europe and the millions of people he murdered."

Madame Toulescent rubbed her hands together, her face grim. "Indeed we do. A sad and sorry time. Let's move into the back where I work and see what we can see."

Dottie stood and followed Madame to the room in the far back of her modest home. It was a glass room with beautiful views into the forest. She left her teacup on the coffee table. Her heart thumped dangerously in her chest and she was short of breath. She was so terrified she almost lost her balance. She gripped her purse and cell phone in her hand. She was scared and just the idea of having the Glock made her feel safer. Could the evil be so strong it permeated her soul?

“Countess, why are you so upset? What can I do to help you?” Madame Toulescent looked at Dottie with concern.

Dottie stared at her but her eyes said it all.

“Let me get you something to calm you down so we can have a good reading. Please stay in the chair and I’ll be right back,” Madame Toulescent said as she left Dottie and walked to her kitchen.Want To Read More? Read Chapter 35 here!

Who Is Judith Lucci???

Dr. Judith Lucci is a bestselling Amazon author and the author of the Alex Destephano Medical Thriller series set in New Orleans and the Michaela McPherson Mystery/Suspense series set in her hometown on Richmond, Virginia. Lucci also has a volume of short stories, Black Magic Bayou, a collection of moralistic tales based on Cajun superstition and lore and a novella, Beach Blanket Murders: The Ocean Can be Deadly. She has contributed to three anthologies and collections, and is the creator of Author 911: The Authors Guide to Writing and Medical Information. She is a registered nurse and college professor and holds graduate degrees from Virginia Commonwealth University and University of Virginia.

“Before I wrote fiction, I was an academic writer who published research, theoretical works, authored text books and just about anything a college professor needed to publish to survive.” The differences in academic and fiction writing are dramatic. Writing what I know encourages me to pull from my clinical experiences, some good, some not and use popular fiction as a means to teach and advocate for others.

Dr. Lucci’s books have three purposes, to engage the reader, to entertain them and to educate about healthcare and perhaps, the darker side of hospital life and life in general. Her books are described as contemporary novels that focus on and describe current social, moral and ethical issues in present day society. Judith is a true advocate for social justice and that theme is often prevalent in her work. She’s an avid reader and loves making stuff up and writing it down. She’s a member of the Virginia Writers Club, The Gulf Coast Writers Club, The Shenandoah Valley Writers group and Sisters in Crime.

When I’m not writing I am probably teaching, painting on silk as I am a multi-media artist or playing with my many dogs. Please feel free to contact me at judithlucciwrites@gmail.com. I am always excited to meet new people!

p.s. - When you enter your email if you get an error message because you are already subscribed, don't worry, that means you are already entered in the giveaway! I have several email lists but this is the only one that will enter you to win in this giveaway. So, make sure you are subscribed:} Have a great day and Good Luck To Everyone!

By: RP Momsen
A very funny science fiction adventure that will change the way you look at life, the universe and why we're all here. Billions of years ago, our universe was born. Not really that terribly exciting for most life forms except of course yourselves… and, well, Phil. The poor bastard who’s had to watch over all you people the last billion or so years. Well, finally after years of listening to all your griping, bitching and whining, always with some imaginary being getting all the credit, he’s finally had it! Phil has decided to explain what the world is, why you’re here and how you can evolve finally into a species worth talking about at parties. In this hilarious actual account, Phil takes two unwitting Physicists on the adventure of their lives, which isn’t saying much for a couple of physicists, and shows them what life, the universe and lovely little corner pubs really is all about. They’re transported to other dimensions to meet their better looking selves, get taken prisoner by an evil but very good looking race, fly through black holes and help the creation of a new planet all while their greatest challenge hangs in the balance, saving earth from the most evil, and best dressed, species the universe has ever seen. Will they save earth? Has all the years of hard work Phil has done creating you beings be lost? Does any of this really matter?

“You gonna answer that?” Delphinia slurred. Typically an attractive female colleague, except now she had half a glass of Pan Universal Kumquat Juice down her front, and somehow an equal amount sprayed randomly throughout her hair. We were all drunk—she was winning.

“Just another idiotic human with some whiny ‘I can’t do anything for myself’ question.” “Are they still making you do that? Didn’t you create some god chat line for them to look up on their own?” asked Braithwaight, a much larger and uglier version of myself who had the unusual characteristic of having the largest nostrils in the universe. You wouldn't know them as nostrils, of course, given that their size and look is of one of your outhouses, massively uneven, bright orange and dripping with something I'd rather not discuss.

“Ya, but they seem to be using it mostly for porn and watching other humans or animals doing idiotic stuff, which is even stranger when you realize that the average human does 4.8 stupid things per week; you would think watching each other in real time would keep them amused enough,” I replied. Braithwaight was correct, after all—a number of years ago, I had instructed humans to create something called God Gab to answer all their questions and, hopefully, quit bothering me. As usual, they misunderstood, called it Google, and continued to harass me anyway.

“Slow... what dey say?” Delphinia slurred, spitting Pan Universal Kumquat Juice over both of us, which as it turned out was actually rather tasty; I decided to order one next despite it being a bit of a girly drink.

“Dear Lord.” (Dear Phil, it should have actually read.) Please give me strength in dealing with my two kids; I’m always so tired, they stay awake for hours on end, I seem to be the only one in the house able to nap, they eat all my food, hide my weed and are even messier than my 3 ex husbands. I can’t keep doing it. What should I do?”

“Signed ‘lame-ass, stoned and grumpy Mom.’ I added the last part.” I ordered my drink despite Braithwaighte’s sudden drunken episode of visualizing me in a short skirt with nice big perky ears; an odd and very unsexy effect of the alcohol.

“So, how do you answer it?” Braithwaight asked, refocusing himself.

“ I usually give some form of positive bullshit advice that they ignore, and then they continue doing exactly what they’ve been doing for years,” I replied.

“You should just sway what you twink then; who cares what they do?” Delphinia again slurred, though this time with more drooling than spitting, which was fine with me since I now had my own drink. Oddly enough, this had never occurred to me before, which just goes to show that the advice of a really drunk person should not be discounted even when slurred, spat, or dribbled. I took two large gulps of my drink, hoping to gain some more of this wisdom; my entire mind seemed to open up and swallow everything around me; my eyes fell out of my head, dropped off the table, and rolled under my now very short skirt, and then I spat the remaining mouthful onto my two companions, to which Braithwaight said ‘mmmm’ before promptly ordering one for himself.

If it had seemed like a good idea before, after two sips of Pan Universal Kumquat Juice, it became the most brilliant idea since the first crossing of the universe in a giant Easter egg with very slightly modified snowshoes and a six-pack of Grantham Planetary Beers. Without putting anymore thought into it, or in fact having any more thought left, I promptly replied to my lame ass Mom message “I would suggest refraining from drinking every night until near unconsciousness, or adoption, whichever ones easier. Signed, Phil.

PS. There is no Lord—Surprise!”

Author Info

R.P. Momsen was lucky enough to meet Phil in a very lovely but rather smelly pub a few years ago. After listening to the most amazing story of his life, and a half dozen pints, Rick agreed to bring Phil’s story to the world and finally get Phil a vacation. Through an arduous process over the next couple years of intense notes, grand philosophical debates, lengthy trips through multiple universes and numerous beers this masterpiece of answers was named Phil and finally released. A great friendship has been created and Rick has agreed to continue to write the real truth about everything, why it’s kind of a good thing to know and what humankind could do to be invited to the really cool parties.

“Ok, Yazy, take off that jacket and walk into the shower stall. The water should be nice and warm. You’ll love it!”

Samyaza raises his eyebrows, looking at the water spraying from the shower head. He looks at the steam swirling around.

“Ah…yeah.”

He shrugs his shoulders and the jacket falls off his shoulders and slides down his wounds. He winces and closes his eyes. He takes in a sharp breath.

“What’s wrong?”

Crystal quickly steps around him to look at his back. She gasps, outraged, and her color drains from her face.

“Omg! What did they do to you! Your flesh is totally shredded. How in the world have you been able to tolerate the pain?”

Samyaza clenches his jaw and turns to around to look at her. He narrows his eyes and nods.

“Sweet Crystal, I’ll be much better as soon as I eat a meal. I would heal quicker if I have more blood.”

He watches her closely, watching her pale complexion.

“Yazy, are you serious! Look at your back!”

She points to the mirror, frowning, and turns him around.

Samyaza turns around and looks into the large bathroom mirror. He frowns, and nods. He closes his eyes.

Yes, that’s what flogging does to you but I’ll be ok. I understand why she’s so upset. I need to convince her that I’m going to be ok.

He opens his eyes and gazes into her eyes. He raises both hands and rests them on her trembling shoulders.

“Sweet Crystal, please believe in what I’m going to tell you. Remember that I’m an angel. Well, a fallen angel, and most important immortal. That means that I usually regenerate but I was without sustenance for such a long time that my energy is depleted. I need nourishment or blood to boost my energy. My body will regenerate soon as I have the power that I need.”

He looks deeply into her beautiful hazel eyes, reaching her soul.
She blinks rapidly and her tears fall down her face. She shakes her head, trying to understand what he told her.

“Yazy, I don’t understand how someone could hurt you so. It’s too painful to see. I hurt for you.”

Her tears continue to fall down her face and he pulls her into his arms.

If you have read this book or any other Indie books lately, please remember to leave a word or two for the author at the store you purchased the book from:}

DO NOT Pass This Book By!
I purchased the eBook format of Shame : Abuse In The Justice System on July 16, 2016. This isn’t the normal book of choice for me, I like to stick with fiction but I decided to explore something different. I have read non-fiction memoirs before but never, ever have I experienced a story that would provoke feelings as I did with this real-life true account of a young man, his family and his journey into adult hood. I was blown away by the abuse and neglect that this young man and his siblings experienced at the hand of his mother and the pure neglect that was shown by his father.
This man struggled through his entire life, each time he thought he was out of the system it was as if fate would deal a card and pull him back into disdain and despair. The justice system is definitely flawed, but to read this book and learn of such things that had really happened inside and out of the “system” is appalling. These things still happen to this day. It is a sad but it is truth.
I was unable to put this book down. I had to finish it and discover if he ever made it out of the system, if he would ever be able to have the life that he so desperately desired and prayed for.
I would highly recommend this book! Age Recommendation: 16+ and up. Due to some highly disturbing written imagery, I would suggest discretion when it comes to the younger reader, but this book could help some younger audiences cope with issues that may relate to this book.
Overall, I am giving this book a HUGE 5 STAR review! Congratulations to the author of this book and thank you for sharing “Shame” with us!
Margaret A. Daly
Author of Dusgadh: Essence of Life

♫♪Put a song in your heart with 20 all-new Christmas Romances from NY Times, USA Today, and national best-selling authors. Each brand-new title is inspired by a Christmas carol and will lift your spirits and bring on the holiday cheer.♫♪

well-known dentist’s office in Richmond, Virginia and retired homicide detective Michaela McPherson, along with her close friend, the aging Countess Dorothy Borghase, and Richmond police join forces to solve the crime. This case pits them against evil and greed armed with tentacles that span continents and generations.

A lunch gathering of old friends at Richmond’s historic Hotel Jefferson finds Countess Dottie Borghase dialing 911 to report the sudden collapse of her dear friend, Camilla. The subsequent death of Camilla Rothrock, the mother of decorated U.S. Army General Stuart Rothrock, has authorities buzzing with concerns about international safety and retaliation.

When other restaurants have patrons succumb to similar illnesses and death, the Richmond Police, local FBI and their Washington profilers assist Michaela and Dottie in the chase of two nefarious and heinous mass murderers without souls or conscious.

“Perfecto, this stuff looks flawless,” Boris said in his thickly accented voice as he held a test tube to the light. The Russian smiled broadly, his thin lips stretched across his decayed teeth and skeletal face. The light from the window outlined his permanently crushed, but healed anterior skull that gave him the look of the monster he truly was. He agitated the test tube between his fingers and re-examined its contents. It was a masterpiece. “There’s enough here to kill everybody in Yankee Stadium and all the cops in Richmond,” he predicted from his tall, though stooped height of six feet, five inches. He reached for a small glass container and transferred a portion of the five gallons to a laboratory beaker. He held the larger quantity up to the window and examined the liquid. “And look, there’s no residue in the bottom and the fluid is perfectly clear.” He turned around to his partner and gushed, “Perfecto, my tovarich, perfecto!”

Snake laughed and clapped his partner on the back. “Way to go, tall guy. Good deal. You know we gotta maximize our efforts. Neither one of us wants to work hard or take extra chances, especially now since they’re lookin’ for me anyway.” Snake moved closer to the glass carboy and smiled as he saw the colorless, odorless and tasteless five gallon drum of liquid. “Man, that looks good. Does it have a smell?”

Boris bent his shiny, bald head forward and sniffed deeply. “No, not that I can tell. I can’t smell anything, but I haven’t got a good nose anyway. “You give it a sniff and see what you think,” he said as he gestured towards the liquid.

Snake moved next to the large glass container and noticed additional small beakers and test tubes of fluid sitting to the side. Each container was labeled and numbered. “You must’ve been a hell of a chemist back in the day,” he remarked as he finger-combed his greasy black hair off his face. Sometimes he wore it in a ponytail but he hadn’t pulled it back today. He bent over and sniffed the carboy. “Nah. Nothing.” He shook his head and said, “I can’t smell nuthin’ either. Good job, my man,” he said enthusiastically, a slow smile spreading across his swarthy, pockmarked face. “You’re a real scientist.”

Boris lit a cigarette, coughed and said, “Man, you have no idea of the stuff I can do. You ain’t seen nothing. I got more killing recipes than Carter’s got little liver pills.” He smiled ominously and showed his rotten teeth. Snake felt a tinge run up his spine. This guy even looked like the monster his reputation claimed he was. He decided to watch himself carefully around Boris and never give him the upper hand.

Snake nodded, “Yeah. Well, I got plenty of chances to see your talents this week!” Once again he checked out his partner and sized him up. He was a dangerous, unpredictable, scary dude.

“Yeah, but I’m never tellin’ you much,” Boris assured him. “There’ll most likely be one day I’ll wanna kill you,” he admitted, the broad grin again slicing through his pale, skeletal face. This guy’s serious. He is crazy.

Snake ignored him and brushed invisible lint off the front of his blue scrubs. “Shut-up man. No need for talk like that.” He knew Boris was a madman, totally wacko. His handlers had told him to be careful. But the money had been too good to pass up and besides, he could take good care of himself. His reputation spoke for him. He had no idea who his bosses were and little was known about the Russian scientist. Rumor suggested he’d long been a mortal enemy of the United States and other stories suggested he was an assassin. Snake didn’t want to push the point. He picked up the container of fluid and placed it in front of him, his face a mask of evil.

“You know what, Boris, old man, I’m thinking we can wipe out an army… or at least a police force with this stuff. Whatdaya think?” He gave him a half smile.

Boris stared at him, his cold grey eyes, bony face and crushed skull glistened in the low light from the barred windows. His eyes roamed the room to the large aquarium that housed all kinds of prickly fish and marine life. The huge tank glowed eerily in the fading light. Boris stared at his fish fondly and gave Snake a strange look and said in a quiet voice, “Of course we can. I already said that. What do you think the plan is?”

Chapter 2

“Dottie, where did you get that marvelous Italian leather bag? I’d die for one like that,” Camilla Rothrock gushed in her drawn out Alabama accent. “I’ve just gotta have one.”

Dottie held up her newest leather pocketbook so all of her best friends could ooh and ah over it. “I had it made especially for me in Italy,” she bragged. The bag was beautiful, soft and buttery between her fingers. “I really love it. Look, it has a special gun pocket stitched in so I can carry my very own Glock,” she said proudly as she pulled her gun holster out of her purse and swiftly returned it before anyone noticed.

Margaret Massie glared from her from across the round table. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Dottie! Give it a rest! Whatever do you need to carry a gun around for? We’re a bunch of old ladies. No one is gonna mess with us,” she admonished as she rolled her eyes and batted her false eyelashes at her best friend of many years. “We’re hardly ever left on our own.” She glowered as her friend.

“Margaret Massie, how can you possibly be so short-sighted?” The Countess Dorothy Borghase exclaimed, disgust evident on her aging, but still lovely face. She flipped her head and a long piece of silver-white hair escaped from her elegant chignon. “After all you’ve been through?” She stared at her friend in disbelief and continued, “That’s precisely the reason we need to pack some heat. Because we are old and weak and can’t run as fast. We’re sitting ducks for most of the bad guys out there.”

Margaret squinted her eyes and frowned at her. “Pack some heat? Really. You sound like you’re in a …” Margaret paused for a moment and looked at her friends, “what do they call it, a gang. What is it? Gangsta talk, or however you say it?” she added sarcastically. As the wife of one of the wealthiest men in Virginia and a blueblood from birth, Margaret didn’t know much about gangs or crime. “But still, Dottie… really, a handmade purse… from Italy, nonetheless, especially designed for your gun? Puhleeze. That’s ridiculous, a bit over the top, wouldn’t you agree, Kathryn?” Margaret asked as she glanced over at Kathryn Lee who was watching her friends an amused look on her face.

Kathryn Lee of Wyndley Farm in Hanover County laughed, her blue eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiled over her water goblet at her friends of many years. Kathryn was the wife of law and order politician Congressman Adam Patrick Lee of Virginia and she clearly had an opinion. She was one of the best target shooters around and could shoot better than most men. She opened her mouth to respond when Dottie interrupted her.

Dottie rearranged one of the intricate wire combs holding her classic up do in place. Her silver hair gleamed under the brass and crystal chandelier in Lamaire Restaurant at Richmond’s historical Hotel Jefferson. “I didn’t design it just for my gun,” she said defensively. “I designed it for my cell phone, my makeup, for the color of the leather, the intricate stitching, the design, and beyond that, the label,” she replied in a snarky voice. Dottie paused for a moment and added, “Besides Vitrio Lanbrucci has been designing fine leather for the Borghase family for over a hundred years.”

Margaret rolled her eyes and turned to Kathryn. “So, Kathryn, what do you think? I know you’d tried to answer my question a few minutes ago,” she said pointedly as she turned to stare at Dottie, “but the Countess forgot her manners. Don’t you think Dottie’s gun purse is a little over the top?” Really,” she opined, a smirk on her face.

Kathryn opened her mouth to answer when Dottie interrupted again, her vivid blue eyes wide with concern. She stared at Camilla who looked strange, frightened, actually. Her pupils were wide and she seemed unable to speak.

“Camilla, whatever is the matter with you? Your face is flushed and your eyes are enormous. Are you ill?” Dottie asked as she rose from her seat.

Kathryn was alarmed as well since Camilla was unable to respond. Her eyes stared wildly at them and she opened her mouth but no words came out. Suddenly, she fell forward, and her head lolled on the table.

“Kathryn, call 911 on your phone. She must’ve had a stroke of something,” Dottie commanded as her heart raced with fear. It could be my head lying on the table and not Camilla’s. Life seemed very precious to Dottie at that second. I sure don’t wanna die in Lamaire restaurant in the Hotel Jefferson. What a spectacle that would be! Of course, she knew Camilla’s didn’t either and as she stood by her friend, tears popped into her eyes. I’ll have to call General Rothrock and tell him something dreadful has happened to his mother.

Kathryn flagged a waiter and moved closer to Camilla’s chair and checked her pulse. She could barely feel it as it was weak and irregular. Kathryn looked into Camilla’s eyes and her pupils that were huge and dark, liquids pools of fluid that saw nothing. Her face was flushed and red.

A moment later, a young waitress carrying a huge serving tray staggered forward and then fell to the floor, spilling food, water and wine all over the oriental carpet. She lay prone and unresponsive.

“Make that two ambulances,” Dottie motioned to the maitre’d who was on his way over.

Allyse Montlake needs a job and quick. But what can a curvy girl with a penchant for plant magic do in the current job market? Itâs just not the kind of thing that most people put on applications these days. To help her mother with medical expenses, she has to get something that pays more than her bookstore jobâand quick. When she goes with her friend Cara to a job fair, she has no idea sheâs just applied for a position on Extreme Bachelor-in front of the camera and not behind the scenes as she intended. When she meets the man behind the mystique, can he love her for who she is and see the beauty behind the curves?

Soren Rochester is a werewolf and the owner of Barks, one of Americaâs most successful pet store chains. He also happens to be fighting a curse. One pissed off witch of an ex-girlfriend and heâs running short on time to find a mate or else. When his assistant suggests a reality television show he reluctantly agrees. Can this beast find true love amidst the glittering dresses of the contestants or will he find her only to lose her in a field of thorns?

âNo way.â Allyse clutched the invitation in her hand and stood at the closed gates of the Rochester estate. She waved the email at the stylish woman with the clipboard standing in front of her.

âThis was supposed to be for a behind the scenes job on the show, not for a close up on camera looking for a husband.â

âI understand, dear, but if youâll get back in line with the others, weâll get all of this sorted out in a few minutes, okay?â

âOthers?â Allyseâs stomach sank. This was so not going how sheâd planned.

âOther contestants. Everything will be explained shortly. Now, if youâll just get in line?â The womanâs voice drifted off in a distracted hollow tone, her attention taken up by a large catering truck approaching the gate.

âYou need to go around back. This is for guests only.â She jabbed her finger at the driverâs window and Allyse stopped listening.

Allyse gritted her teeth and made her way over to the group of six women who, like her, waited for direction. She didnât miss the behind the hand comments and slant-eyed stares. Her curvy form seemed to invite them. Today, sheâd worn a new black and white floral top and soft flowing black slacks with new strappy black heels. Her long, dark hair was twisted into a loose updo with tendrils of curls fluttering down the sides of her face. Sheâd even splurged on a new tube of lipstick she couldnât really afford, but it was important to make the right impression with the people who mattered.

Out of the corner of her eye, Allyse spotted a camera crew filming them from afar and her stomach did a funny little flip. She turned her head and recognized the hostess for the show standing next to the coordinator and swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat. Sheâd helped behind the scenes on a few shows, but never had she even considered herself a candidate for the hand of a man she didnât even know. It was, in her opinion, ludicrous to think you could meet someone and know, in a date or two, if there was chemistry enough to warrant a lifetime commitment. How awkward would it be to tell someone oh hey, I sort of forgot to tell you Iâm a witch that can sniff out car keys like a prized spaniel and oh, by the way, if you ever want your roses to grow, just pass me the word and Iâll make sure they get the memo.

Besides, she never aspired to being married. No one had ever really made her think of it. For her, marriage meant forever, and she didnât abide by the modern sensibility that you could dump someone like you changed your socks. The only man in her life was Mr. Stinky, an irritable little Chihuahua whoâd claimed her heart long ago. She was happy. He didnât hassle her about her curves or needle her about hogging the bed. Nope. He was a perfect little pouty faced angel and she was mad for him.

He was pissed as hell at her right now, too. Leaving him with her mother wasnât normally an issue, but the little guy had taken one look at her luggage and given her such an evil glare she still had the scorch marks. Heâd gone right up to the top of the stairs, staring down at her like an angry gargoyle.

All she had to do was get through the next few days, collect her check and hope it was enough to help put a dent in her momâs doctor bills. It made her sick to think of how little insurance actually covered. She had to do something to help make ends meet and work she would. It was late afternoon and, from what the email said, they should be entering the property to get settled.

The hostess walked away from the film crew and joined the other women.

âAttention, ladies. If you could all join me here at the gates, weâll get started.â

BOOK INFORMATION

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Antiques expert Steve Carlson must face the mistakes of his past to discover a treasure he never imagined: the heart of a vulnerable yet determined widow.

TRUE RICHES Twenty-eight-year-old Victoria Van Orr just lost everything. With the death of her billionaire husband went his mature patience and warm encouragement; and the veneer of acceptance from everyone else. His friends and colleagues now ignore Victoria, and if his son succeeds she just might be forced back to the streets upon which she was raised. But money was never her goal. All she wants is love. Real love.

Antiques expert Steve Carlson knows the value of everything. Pain and betrayal? Those he gave away--and now they're coming back. His worst mistakes were all with one man: an old friend, the son of a father figure, now the stepchild of a beautiful young widow who wants Steve to help her auction off the family estate. To help Victoria, Steve must face his past and become a better man. To find true love, he will discover her surprisingly pure heart, vulnerable yet determined. And beyond price.

BUY & TBR LINKS

EXCERPT

Steve tilted his head, his bright blue eyes sizing her up. “Sorry, but I gotta’ ask. Do you always talk like that?”

Victoria felt her cheeks warm. “Whatever do you mean?”

“There.” He studied her again with not-so-subtle curiosity. “You sounded like your late husband James just now. Funny, you don’t seem like the snooty type to me. More like a regular girl.”

His comment touched a nerve like hot wires to stripped cable. Victoria bit back a retort while blood rushed through her ears. She closed her eyes against the sound to clear her head. Twenty-eight was hardly a girl, and she was damn tired of defending her right to be a Van Orr.

For five years she’d tried and failed to fit into the privileged world of her older husband—learning couture, keeping her posture as straight as a modeling school graduate, rounding her O’s when she spoke —apparently fooling no one on either side of the social spectrum in the process.

Defeat swept over her and her shoulders sagged beneath five-thousand dollars’ worth of silk and linen. No matter how hard she tried, she’d forever be exposed as the abandoned kid who’d grown-up in shelters.

Strange though… when she opened her eyes and returned them to Steve Carlson’s handsome face, she sensed his remark was meant as a compliment, and not a reminder that she lacked James’s pedigree. It was like he saw her.

Her. Not James’s luxury-model second wife.

Still, his manners were disgusting. Even store-owner-janitors should know how to behave. Snooty type. Who was he to say that to her? She was a potential client for heaven’s sake.

Victoria stood to leave. She was sick and tired of people voicing their opinions about her and her late husband’s disparate lineage. She’d been bullied and belittled since the day she’d become engaged. “You don’t know me well enough to analyze me, Mr. Carlson.” She kept the annoyance out of her reprimand. The rich had taught her that cool distain wounded more deeply than anger.

Steve grimaced, rubbed his jaw, and then stood to face her, his expression sheepish. He waved her back to her seat. “Please. I’m sorry I offended you. I’m a friend. Really. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

He ran a hand through his hair and his bicep bulged with the movement. Victoria’s gaze followed the lines and curves of sinew and muscle and took in the military tattoo peeking from the hem of his tee shirt.

She resisted the images that teased her dormant libido, and brought her eyes back to his face. Damn. That didn’t help. Why did this annoying man have to be so good-looking? Her attraction to him only made her feel guilty, like she’d betrayed James’s memory.

Widowhood came with a unique set of baggage.

AUTHOR BIO

Adele Downs is the best-selling, award-winning author of more than 20 romance titles, including those written under another pen name, and a former journalist with hundreds of articles to her credit. When not writing in her home office in rural Pennsylvania, she can be found reading a book on the nearest beach, taking photographs, or riding in her convertible.